


A Spectator Sport

by almostblue (fictionalaspect)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-06
Updated: 2006-02-06
Packaged: 2018-10-26 12:04:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/almostblue
Summary: Harry discovers there is something to be said for sitting out during Quidditch Practice.





	A Spectator Sport

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Complete PWP. No semblance of a plot. Sometimes my muse just says _Write Smut!_ and really, who am I to argue?  


* * *

Harry bit his lip, feeling the cold metal biting into his back through his thin t-shirt. Really, it was far too cold out here for how he was dressed. Far too cold for what he was doing. Far too cold to be sitting outside jerking off. Far too early, unlike most nights when Harry snuck out for some quality time with Rosie Palmer.  
  
The chances of being discovered at 3 am were a lot lower than right now, when the sun had just set and there were probably students walking around and really, this wasn’t a very good idea in the first place, but watching Ron fly – _god_ , watching Ron fly. Watching the intense concentration, the way the muscles in his back moved when he shifted his weight on the broom – the _broom_ , god, how he would rock back and forth on it when he was bored and waiting for Ginny to finish a drill, rubbing up and down and didn’t Harry just wanted to be right there, in between those thighs – Harry had to a stifle a moan as he rubbed firmly down his erection. He could already feel the wetness seeping through the front of his jeans and it was a good thing he hadn’t stayed a minute longer, because the sight of Ron flying, sweaty and shirtless, his nipples peaked because of the cold, drips of sweat rolling down his neck – it was far too much to bare.  
  
And really, his obvious arousal wasn’t the sort of thing you could explain away. Especially to Hermione, who’d bought his lie about his scar hurting hook, line and sinker, since that was the reason he was sitting out practice in the first place. He hated lying to her, but it was a far sight better than having to say _Sorry, Hermione, I need to go because I’m about to cream my jeans at the sight of Ron flying like that and I know he’s your boyfriend but I really need to wank **right this moment** or I’m going to explode because he’s just that gorgeou_ s – no, that would not have gone over well.  
  
He rubbed slowly down his length with just the tips of his fingers, teasing himself. He’d been so hard that he could barely walk to make it to this spot under the stands, had to sit down with his knees spread instead of cross-legged so as not to painfully trap his erection. Bringing his palm up to his face, he spit on it and slowly, keeping the hollow of his palm away from his skin, slid it down his stomach – _oh Merlin, yes, just like that_ \-- trailing his slick palm over just the very tip and sucking in a breath at how good it felt. Oh, god, he could feel it pulsing up his spine and his balls were hot and tight and it wouldn’t be long now, and he needed to slow down, needed to hold himself back if he wanted to enjoy this. Part of him wanted to just get it over with, just give himself those few rough tugs that he knew would have him gasping for breath with come dribbling down his wrists, between his fingers....  
  
But…no – this was a singular opportunity, because Ron was still up there, flying and looking like sex on a stick, his lean, wiry body showcasing every freckle, every sinew and toned muscle and he could, conceivably come down here, push back the heavy drapes and see Harry, flushed and panting on the ground, knees spread and cock out, biting his lip and closing his eyes and running his hand-oh-so slowly, so luxuriously up and down his shaft, up and down, up and down…Harry brought his palm back up to his face as he spit on it again, a breathy moan escaping from his lips as he pictured Ron catching him in the act. Or _Merlin_ , how Ron looked in the same situation – Harry had walked in on him accidentally once, in the showers after a game, and the sight of Ron leaning against the wall, supporting his body weight with one arm as the other worked furiously between his legs to bring himself off, licking his lips and flushed – it had provided ample wanking material for weeks. Harry speeded up a bit, increasing the pressure as he imagined Ron in the Quidditch changing rooms, pulling out that gorgeous cock, fisting it roughly, looking at him with those blue eyes – Harry was moaning openly now, too far gone to even care how loud he was being. His body consisted of only his hands and his cock, sticky with pre-cum and saliva. He rubbed a thumb over his slit, feeling the wetness seep out and his balls tighten up and god, he was close, _soclose_ , and Ron was out there, still flying around, completely unaware that Harry was tossing off like dirty, wanton slut because of him, lips wet and mouth gasping and legs spread for anyone to see if they just pulled up the curtain, moaning Ron’s name for everyone to hear…Harry couldn’t hold it back any longer and he came, cock pulsing, feeling the hot liquid on his stomach, dripping down his hand and god, he was just shooting and shooting and his limbs were twitching and he _never_ came this hard when he was out alone at night and it just went on and on until he slumped back against one of the metal girders, exhausted and sweaty.  
  
He was starting to think he should fake being sick more often.


End file.
